|
Sojourners_Hymn
|
read my profile
sign my guestbook
Name: Joel
Gender: Male
Interests: music, anything related to the Church, ruf, studying the Word of God, the beauty here that testifies, the wonder that is written word, making sense of this mess we've made...
Occupation: RUF Intern
Message: message meEmail: email me
Member Since:
1/6/2004
|
|
SubscriptionsSites I Read
|
|
|
|
| Working at WorkingI'm really glad that Adam worked before the fall.
The bad parts of work come after the fall, of course, but I am really thankful that we'll be working in heaven.
So far I've spent two weeks working at working: doing nothing but looking for jobs. There have been moments where I was resting in God's sovereignty in a real sense. Then there was that moment where I got off the phone and found that I didn't get an interview to that job at which I felt like I had a real shot. I paced for a few minutes, sat down at the piano, played for about two minutes, then threw the book against the wall. The far wall. And it hit the wall pretty well, even though the wall wasn't near the piano. I am really glad that my justification is not based on my sanctification.
God has provided for me. Not yet with a job, but with moments where I thought I was going crazy and he calmed me down, gave me perspective, reminded me of His truth: I am in His hands. He is Jehovah Jireh - the Provider God. He is Emmanuel - God, here. Most of these reminders have come through people - a friend speaking truth in love, a brother seeking to help me when I was too frustrated to try anymore, a listener that heard not the words spoken but the heart behind the words, a word from the Word. Thank the Lord that He gives more grace. More grace than I ever see.
But it still makes me glad to think that I'll have work to do in heaven. It will be incredibly fulfilling, unbroken there. I think people need work to stay sane. Fortunately it has only been two weeks... = )
And tomorrow is the Sabbath. Not a day where I forget my troubles and pretend that I'm worthy to sing praises to God, but a day where I connect the dots. A day where I bring myself, wherever I'm at before God, just as I am, and He comes and finds me. A day where broken people like me get put back together.
"Take, my soul, thy full salvation,
Rise o'er sin and fear and care;
Joy to find in ev'ry station
Something still to do or bear.
Think what Spirit dwells within Thee,
What a Father's smile is thine,
What a Savior died to win thee:
Child of heav'n, shouldst thou repine?"
- Henry Lyte, Jesus I My Cross Have Taken, 1824.
| | |
| 25It wasn’t the sun that was shining when I awoke. It was the cell phone screen. And the screen wasn’t just shining. I picked up the phone.
“Joel?! Wow! Uh...
Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday dear Joel.
Happy birthday to you!”
On the third line my parents broke into a two part harmony through the rest of the song. Though the “Happy Birthday” song is not one of my favorite things, harmony is. It made it better.
Then we talked for a while: summarizing about my life (one of those things you do when you get older and need milestones to make years feel different), the church, my move to Jackson, and trying to beat unemployment, among other things.
Afterward, the house was quiet. The morning hours extended their residual dark by working up a thick grey cloud cover. Rumblings hummed in the distance. Thousands of mezzo-piano staccato intonations chanted together as the rain fell on hard and soft. Water sssssh’ed as passing cars mashed it down against the asphalt. Steam and scent permeate now as the coffee wraps up its pressured heat and filtration. Out the corners of the windows the greens look greener already. I reach for the creamer and think. The rain quickens.
I move from the oak table in the dim light. Steam eases its way up from the mug. A song has come to me, so I join Schumann to the chorus of earth and water and grey sky. As the simple, pristine fourth begins the song, “Traumerei” fills both the room and the thoughts. The real trick Schumann played on the musical world is that most every pianist can play Traumerei, but very few can actually play Traumerei. Even from a good pianist, the oft alone melody can seem rote, the chords, when they do come, had too much expectation riding on them to really resonate. My mind wanders away with the melody. I think Horowitz is one of the greatest pianists the world has known. This is no more true when he plays the Rach 3 as it is when he plays Traumerei. Just like Aunt Sharon. She could make the dullest of pieces shine like a diamond. As I reach the last line, I think, wishing I could play that last line like Horowitz did, with his whole heart in every note and chord. Subtlety. Longing. Vulnerability. Strength. Hope. It is all there. I wish I could play Traumerei like Horowitz did. Like Aunt Sharon could. But I am thankful for the moment.
Schumann’s song fades into the song of the earth. Its’ silence gives way to other voices, other expressions of subtlety. The earth is watered - even the parts of it we coated that cannot absorb this grace. It is still dim, the hallway fading into dark. Now the coffee is almost lukewarm. Today could be mistaken as a quiet day, but if you listen you actually find there are voices all around. Today is not a quiet day, but a soft-spoken day. Maybe it is more true to say that today is the sort of day that instead of it being quiet, it quiets you.
And today I am 25.
25. It is a new number to deal with. It is a year marker with different content, different connotation. But at 25, I am still me. Still me, just with a new category. I am glad that people aren’t categories. People might fall into them, but they aren’t defined by them.
The dimness and the rain continue, though the rumblings have given way. An inch of coffee remains, cooled. Thought has given way to simply being here, now.
Today is a good day.
| | |
| Moving is part of the fall.
In heaven, there won't be a break in fellowship from people about whom you care. There relationships won't be dulled when there is distance put between people. You won't have to just hold on to memories and the good times past; you'll be able to enjoy fellowship always.
Christian fellowship is sweet (in the most basic sense of the word). Looking to Christ, walking towards the same end, living with the same hope, struggling with similar burdens, holding each other up, bearing each others' burdens, seeking God's glory unites people both quickly and truly. After only two years, leaving feels like I'm losing part of myself.
People are not meant to be alone - we thrive best in community. God designed us this way, He gave us the church. But most importantly He gave us Himself. I am so thankful that the God who spanned heaven and earth entered a virgin's womb and walked through the hurt and brokenness that is the world, lived perfectly, and died to end the separation between Him and His people. I am so thankful that His salvation ensures that this world of "severed friendships" will not have the last word, but what is for a time may be severed will be "knit up."
One day for Christians there will be no more goodbyes.
I'm just really sad that now is not that time.
"May you dream you are dreaming, in a warm soft bed
And may the voices inside you that fill you with dread
Make the sound of thousands of angels instead
Tonight where you might be laying your head."
- Patty Griffin, Nobody's Cryin'.
"So lift up your hearts to this unfolding,
all that has been broken will be restored,
Here runs deep waters to all who are thirsty,
Love has come, love has come, for you."
- Sandra McCracken, Ten Thousand Angels.
| | |
| I just wanted to say really quickly that I'm going to post soon. A lot has been going on (as it always seems when people drop off blogging for a while) and I've had a lot of thoughts lately, but haven't made time to assimilate them in a useful way. But hopefully I'll get to that in the next few days.
Random exit quote:
"There was some books... One was Pilgrim's Progress, about
a man that left his family, it didn't say why. I read considerable
in it now and then. The statements was interesting, but tough."
- Mark Twain, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
| | |
| Behaviorism and the Gospel"You are what you are now becoming."
A friend brought these words to me in college (I can't recall their original source). These words, a hawk cycling overhead, come to me here and there. Sometimes the distance is enough that I am unaware of its' ring, other times it seems to be cycling round my ears directly. There are days where I hate these words. When I am wise I am thankful that they stay around, serving as an eye removed from my own sight, uninfluenced by whatever I find myself reasoning, reminding me that there is more than what I want at just this moment.
But even the wise moments, I find myself a B.F. Skinner Behaviorist. "Show me the boy, and I'll show you the man," my will voices, determinedly. My will desires to shape me, uninfluenced, into whatever god-like hero it wants. Whether it be a gospel insight like Tim Keller, or a literary pen like W.B. Yeats, or a storytelling mastery like J.R.R. Tolkien, or a logic like C.S. Lewis, a compassion like Rich Mullins or Bono, maybe even piano chops like Horowitz, whatever the case my Behaviorist will seeks to add the adjective to the simile of me. Is that so wrong? Is it wrong to desire greatness?
I am not a Behaviorist. I have a will that is desperately shaped by everything other than objectivity, shaped by what I think is right, by what others want from me, what others expect of me, what I expect of me, by my God, by my idols. Changing the behavior of a man does nothing more than change the behavior of a man. If I am a passionate, emotional person, behavior can make my reactions less external, but I am still passionate and emotional. If I am a sinner at heart, behavior can change the outward expression of sin, but I am still sinful. There is something central that is missing here.
The missing center is the heart. The will operates according to the desires of the heart. I can want to change my sin because I know that sin comes between me and God and shows me that at that moment I am not believing the Gospel, and I believe the Gospel. I can also want to change my sin because it is culturally unacceptable and I care a whole lot about the way people view me, so if I change my sin, I will be viewed more positively, I will seem to be more godly, but all I have done is changed my behavior. At heart I have fed my idolatry, the fear of man/desire for acceptance and approval. Behaviorism teaches us how to adapt to our own cultures, to better function in our own spheres, but does nothing for the heart. Only the Gospel, only Christ speaks to the heart.
So when the hawk that is "You are what you are now becoming" swoops down, I learn to remind myself that I am a sinner. I have idols that can look a whole lot like godliness but are actually pleas for acceptance and approval from men and not God. I need to remember that God says something very profound in the Gospel, that it isn't at all about what I do for God that makes me accepted and approved, but it is that Jesus lived brilliantly on this earth, took the rejection, disgrace and condemnation that my sin earned, and ultimately gained my acceptance and approval for me before God and men. Because I have a right standing before God I need not fear, for I have been freed from the enslavement that is the fear of man. I am defined by God's words of me and not of what people think of me. Because I am free from my idol, I can love people without them defining my identity. See, ultimately it is the Gospel that changes behavior, because it is the Gospel that changes the heart. Inside out, not outside in.
"You are what you are now becoming."
I am a sinner saved by Christ's life, death and resurrection, learning to love for God's glory, not for my own.
| | |
|
